I press my nose against the pane
Of the little toffee shop.
Day after day I save my pennies
To spend at the toffee shop.
Come Saturday morn at nine o’clock,
I stand on the cold stone street
A penny every day that I have saved
To buy myself some sweets.
The nice, little lady, old and grey,
With glasses and shawl.
Gives love away to good little boys
Who do as they are told.
She’s always telling stories
Of her childhood days.
She couldn’t buy the things that I can
Poor families in those days.
Imagine the sweets that I can buy
With six pennies of my own.
I always take my time to choose
The sweets I’ll be taking home.
Gobstoppers in my pockets,
Brown sugar in my hand,